


“Always a Privilege”

by thatsrightdollface



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: F/M, Fluff, I'm playing Birthright and wanted to write something cozy with these two???, the book club continues!!!, this takes place somewhere before chapter 15 (cause that's when I started writing it)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 21:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20478083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsrightdollface/pseuds/thatsrightdollface
Summary: There had been a time — not really all that long ago, in the grand scheme of dragons and empires and deliciously innovative tea blends — when Jakob wouldn’t have been able to imagine himself at home.





	“Always a Privilege”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!!! I hope you enjoy this, if you read it. I'm sorry for any and all mistakes I might've made. I... am THIS CLOSE to writing a Batman-AU with these two. Pfffft.
> 
> Thank you~

There had been a time — not really all that long ago, in the grand scheme of dragons and empires and deliciously innovative tea blends — when Jakob wouldn’t have been able to imagine himself _at home._ Particularly not _at home _in a Hoshido-style fort tucked away in some pocket dimension, at war with the king his parents were probably off serving somewhere without any use for him... Particularly not with his own lady and princess carefully massaging the knots out of his shoulders. Corrin was kissing the back of Jakob’s neck, too, and coaxing him into telling her honest details about his day. It was possible he came off somewhat snappish in a handful of those stories, but he only doctored them up a tiny bit. Corrin knew he would, and chuckled close to his ear — teasing him, there in the half-light. 

Jakob’s long silvery hair was loose down his back, now. His lady had undone the ribbon holding it tidy herself. All the forces of the world were either standing at Corrin’s side or simple weeds to have the gardeners drag out by the roots, after all... If anyone had the rights to play with Jakob’s hair, it would have to be his lady. It would have to be his _wife_. Jakob had worked so hard to polish himself into the perfect butler for her — the perfect servant — but way back when, at the start of things, hadn’t she only wanted to talk with him? Before he could so much as clean a single dish, hadn’t she asked his name? Corrin had kept Jakob in the castle with her; she had chatted with him for hours. He’d been able to make her snicker down into her hand, muttering, “Oh, Jakob, that’s _awful_,” even back at that very first meeting. 

Jakob had been rootless, then — an almost-servant with no idea what he was doing, dropped off in a strange stone world. His home before had been cold, but velvety soft and easy. He had never held a tray of cakes that weren’t his to eat, before then. He had never so much as had to polish his own boots, not to mention someone else’s. Jakob’s carefully straight back and his spotless waistcoat and his guarded voice were all precautions against becoming _that side_ of himself again. The side that wouldn’t have been allowed to stay with Corrin, his lady who seemed to want him even when he barely wanted himself. The side he saw reflected back in his son Dwyer, sometimes, and that might have been content to sleep through his days even now if he’d never been given something to keep himself awake for. 

But even _that side_ of Jakob had thought to start a book club with Corrin and Felicia, hadn’t he? It was lucky he’d known how to read — _something_ worthwhile come from his noble upbringing, at any rate. It was lucky he’d had a little practice gathering wry observations, reading by himself, although perhaps it was a little strange having actual friends to share them with. Oftentimes people found Jakob a little curt, a little cold, but Corrin had wanted to tell him all her secrets.

Wherever they camped now, that was Jakob’s home. Wherever Corrin smoothed down blankets for him, and wherever the tea set he liked to use was stowed away. Corrin pulled Jakob back against her — resting his head into her shoulder, wrapping her arms around his chest, _still kissing him_ — and he twisted around to kiss back as well as he knew how. None of this had been covered by any of his butler training, of course. None of this was being assessed for any kind of performance review; none of these tasks could be fulfilled by any of those other servants back in the castle... Or any of these near-strangers wandering around throughout the camp. _Jakob_ lived here with her. He was the only other person keeping coats in this closet. He was the only one whose carefully-sharpened knives were waiting on the table by the latest book club novel they’d chosen to read, and he would be able to grab for those knives faster than most intruders could gasp out a little profanity. 

Jakob and Corrin would take turns reading their latest book club pick back and forth to each other, soon enough, that night. She would try her best to do as many of the voices as she could, and the room would smell like freshly steeped tea. Maybe someday they’d give their observations on this story to Felicia, when all the war was done. Or maybe not. Jakob was already starting to scour around the towns they passed through for a book to read after this one. Something to take his lady’s – Corrin’s – mind off the battlefield for a moment. Something with intrigue and humor, perhaps. They still quoted some of the books they’d read together in surreptitious murmurs, you know. Inside jokes.

Once, other servants had acted like it was a little strange, a butler keeping so many inside jokes with his lady. Jakob had never invested himself too deeply in what _they_ thought of him, though, of course. There was the world, and then there was Corrin, if you recall. 

Jakob’s voice would be ready to serve, when it was his turn to read that night. He’d sit with his lady’s head propped up on his thigh and his cravat undone on the bedside table. Casual and soft in a way no one else in that party had seen him, not even that time they had to evacuate in the middle of the night because Setsuna somehow set off a trap that swallowed up the whole camp. Corrin’s eyes would drift gently closed and trusting, after a little while, listening to him. More trusting here than anywhere else, whatever dragon blood was under her skin, whatever enemies they’d face the next morning, whatever messy blurring of lady-and-servant dynamics had led them to this place.

There you are, right? Home, whether Jakob would have ever dreamt it up for himself or not. 


End file.
